


S'mores

by Desiderii



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adorkable, Boys? What boys?, Camping, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desiderii/pseuds/Desiderii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kira takes Malia out camping and introduces her to her favorite fireside traditions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	S'mores

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Femslash February! 
> 
> I actually wrote this in July as part of my 'learn to write sexytimes' challenge for the prompt: Kira/Malia, s'mores. It turned into pure (marshmallow) fluff instead. :) 
> 
> Many thanks to [percygranger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Percygranger/pseuds/Percygranger) for her beta assistance on this one.

Watching Malia out of the corner of her eye, Kira gathered supplies from the basket in the trunk of the car and tried to keep from being too entirely distracted.

Crickets sang into the darkness and the campfire crackled, and the only sign of civilization besides their own camp was the ranger’s truck that rattled by on the nearby access trail. They weren’t too far out of town, enough that the light pollution had lessened and they could see more than just Sirius and Mars overhead - and enough that Malia had relaxed, which was ridiculously unfortunate for Kira’s concentration.

Malia lounged on a fallen tree at the fireside, in her element, enough that she didn’t bother to watch the woods. Shoulders relaxed, eyes heavy-lidded, she watched Kira move around the campsite instead. It was a level regard, unselfconscious, and Kira found herself unnerved by it enough that she fumbled the bag of marshmallows into the dirt next to the car.

Kira blushed and avoided Malia’s gaze.

Brushing the worst of the dust off the bag, Kira added it to her growing armload of campfire necessities. The slight anxiety that maybe Malia was getting impatient made her stop being so picky and just grab everything in the trunk and shuffle back to the edge of the fire. She dumped her armload with the rest of their camping equipment beyond spark range and considered her options.

Various rocks and logs ranged in a loose circle at the the edge. Plenty of seating for the two of them. They didn’t have to sit side-by-side if Kira didn’t want to.

The log next to the fire was wide enough for both of them to sit side by side, however, and deciding she was definitely going to be brave about this, Kira settled down next to Malia, close enough that their knees knocked together. She swallowed a flutter of anticipation and it joined the rest of the butterflies in her stomach as she broke out the toasting sticks. Malia followed her every move with interest, and Kira was kind of a hundred percent certain it wasn’t because she didn’t know what the stick was for.

Everything came back to the dance they’d shared in that club in Mexico. It hadn’t exactly changed things, not really, but it had suggested things. Kira had no idea if she was ready to act on any suggestion made during a Mexican rave, but at the same time (on the other, other hand) as much as Kira talked herself around what she wanted, she did actually know what she was after.

Right now, she was after feeding Malia a delicious fireside snack.

“I’ve seen this,” Malia said.

“Of course you have.” Kira handed her a stick with a marshmallow impaled on the end. “It’s a crime not to at least bring s’more stuff, even if it rains. Or you only have a camp stove and everything tastes like propane. Or you ate all the chocolate on the ride over and only have marshmallows.”

Malia nodded seriously. “A crime.” Her eyebrows drew together as she committed this new rule to memory.

“W-wait,” Kira stuttered and held out a hand to stop her. “Not a real crime. It’s just tradition.”

“Ah,” Malia said. Her expression didn’t change, and the correction disappeared behind her eyes with little indication of how it was received. Then, without warning, she held up her stick and gave Kira a smile. “So how do we do this, traditionally?”

Kira loosed a bright smile of her own, relieved. “We toast.” She shoved her marshmallow near the embers of their fire and gestured for Malia to do the same. “Some people like it a flaming ball of burnt sugar, but I like it only a little bit brown so you can slide the whole outside off and toast it again.”

Malia nodded and remained silent.

Hesitating, about to add or clarify or she didn’t know what, Kira quieted also.

A log snapped and sent sparks into the sky. Kira pulled her marshmallow out to pinch it to see if it was done and, mimicking her movements, Malia did the same. She flicked a glance at Kira a moment later. Her expression was one of intense concentration, her jaw set like it was whenever she committed a new human ritual to memory.

Offering her a shy smile, Kira caught her eye. Malia’s expression broke into a wide, mischievous grin, and she shoved her marshmallow back into the fire with enough enthusiasm to whack it against one of the logs. Another gale of sparks took to the sky.

Kira covered her giggle with a hand.

They sat together for another minute, maybe two, until the sound of the pines rattling their needles in the breeze made her shiver. In response, Malia scooted closer and pressed herself bodily against Kira.

Kira stiffened, startled. She soon relaxed against Malia’s shoulder, however. There was no reason to grab her coat from the car with a werecoyote tucked to her side, especially not when she appeared content to snuggle and surreptitiously sniff her hair.

The perfectly browned outside of her marshmallow was the only reason Kira moved, and even then she debated letting it char and drop off. Still, it was done and it was perfect and she couldn’t bring herself to waste a perfect marshmallow. She pulled hers out of the firepit and squeezed it. Once more, Malia mirrored her actions, and while hers was unevenly dark in places, it would be just as delicious.

Kira had an extended internal debate with herself about whether or not she wanted to lean away from Malia to grab the graham crackers.

“Now what?” Malia prompted, laughter in her voice.

Kira blinked at Malia in surprise only to receive a knowing smile in return. “You’re messing with me,” she complained.

Malia laughed aloud, then, in a bold, unfettered bark that reverberated from the surrounding trees.

With as much dignity as was possible when dealing with already-melting chocolate, Kira assembled her s’more, showing Malia how to use the crackers to squeeze the marshmallow from the stick.

“And then you eat it,” Kira said. She took a messy bite.

Malia followed suit. She bit off as much of the s’more as she could fit in her mouth, unafraid of the heat or the way it squeezed out around the edges of the graham cracker to cling to her fingers. Her eyes lit the moment she bit down and her second bite was quick on the heels of the first, a messy shove to get as much of the s’more in her mouth as she could. Hot marshmallow fluff caught in the corner of her mouth, a sugary streak that she tried to lick away and couldn’t reach with her tongue. She hesitated, her hand half-raised, but before she wiped it away, her gaze met Kira’s.

Kira’s eyes widened, and in a moment of panic, she shoved her entire s’more into her mouth. She could barely chew, and she had underestimated just how much concentration trying not to choke actually took. Still, it gave her the excuse to look down and away from Malia. If she stared too long, she’d give herself away if she hadn’t already.

Her heart beat hard in her chest and she was almost positive werecoyotes could hear that sort of thing. If Malia could, though, there was little else to distract from it, just the low crackle of the fire and another ranger’s truck crunching down the nearby road. Kira kept her eyes on the fire as if her life depended on it and relaxed only when Malia leaned away. The breeze rattled the trees once more and her side grew tragically chill. Torn between embarrassment in trying to awkwardly chew when she could barely move her jaw around the sheer volume of s’more and wanting Malia to cuddle up to her again, fleeing the fire and hiding in the car sounded like a better and better idea.

Fingers sticky, Kira sucked chocolate and marshmallow goo from the side of her pinky and turned to tell Malia she was going to grab their jackets. She froze, finger still in her mouth, at Malia’s expression.

Malia was watching Kira intently, her gaze sharp.

“What?” Kira asked.

Malia’s smile put in a brief appearance. “That was good.”

“Oh.”

Then Malia leaned in, pulled Kira’s hand gently away from her mouth, and kissed her firmly on the lips. She kissed without reservation, her lips sticky from marshmallow and chilled by the rapidly cooling chocolate. Too startled to respond, Kira remained absolutely still until Malia pulled away, which Malia did as soon as she realized Kira wasn’t kissing back.

“What’s wrong?” Malia drew her brows together, mixing her standard puzzled look with one of concern.

Kira lifted her fingers to her lips to feel the lingering tingle of the kiss and the dusting of graham cracker crumbs that Malia had left behind. “W-what was-?”

Malia’s smile returned, cheerful as she explained, “You said s’mores were tradition. I’ve seen campers before. This is tradition, too.” Her smile fell. “It’s not?”

Kira gave Malia a dazed little grin. “For some people.”

“For us?”

“Sure,” Kira managed. Then her higher brain function caught up with her and she stiffened. She retreated, waving her sticky hand for emphasis. “I mean, if you mean, if-”

“If I want to kiss you,” Malia finished for her, and it was close enough to what Kira was trying to get at that she bobbed her head yes. Malia shrugged and said, “I don’t see the point in a lot of things humans do. If I am doing a human thing, it means I want to.”

This time it was Kira who leaned forward. She brushed her lips tentatively across Malia’s and pulled away. Malia tasted of chocolate and burnt sugar and Kira decided that maybe this could be a have-cake-and-eat-it-too situation, except with s’mores. She caught Malia’s shoulder with one hand and tried to pull her forward only to have Malia pull her into a much less chaste embrace.

The next series of kisses went on long enough that Kira lost track of everything but the smell of woodsmoke in Malia’s hair and the click of Malia’s teeth against hers when they both misjudged distance and angle while exploring someone else’s yet-unfamiliar mouth. Kira clung to Malia, her fingertips tangling in her hair, made bold by Malia’s enthusiasm.

Malia was bolder still, and she sent a skitter of warm pleasure down Kira’s spine as she cupped one hand around the back of her neck and stroked the other down to brush Kira’s breast through the fabric of her shirt. At their side, a log popped and sparks showered them both, burning out the moment they drifted onto their clothes. A distant coyote--a real one--yipped into the night and Malia twitched. Kira thought she meant to pull away, but instead Malia leaned forward and pushed her nearly flat to the log.

Just when Kira thought she was going to end up beneath her, Malia broke the kiss, straightened, and held up a new marshmallow. She grinned.

Kira could only stare at the marshmallow, winded and uncomprehending. Eventually, she lifted her eyes to Malia’s and tilted her head in query.

“We have a whole bag of these-” Malia’s grin only widened at the blush that crept across Kira’s cheeks the longer she held the marshmallow aloft. “-and you have a lot of traditions to teach me.”


End file.
